🔗 Share this article

In a quiet neighborhood of Dublin, a man is standing outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” says Leonard, gazing toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the noise and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, this series comes like a foil blanket and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode comedy developed by the writing duo, based on the author’s quiet book – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The program on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration for those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. But. The character (another uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the choices that directed him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; creating a range of children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes emails using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, mentor and ally in a weekly board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the moniker seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe he once ate a snack very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic associate who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as being in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.